I know, I know. You’ve read the title and your mind’s made up. You either hate Michael Moore or you love him. He’s either that plump liberal wacko or the camera carrying whistleblower, son of an autoworker who’s taken Flint, Michigan’s misery personally.

My take? Okay, so here’s what I don’t like about “Capitalism: A Love Story.” At 127 minutes, it’s about a half-hour too long. Moore spends too much time with the old 8 mm clips of himself growing up in idyllic Flint before, y’know, things went sour.

He spends too long reminding us that 20 years ago we spent another two hours trying to track down GM’s CEO Roger Smith to ask, “What happened?”

He spends too much time with old newsreel footage of Roosevelt and others, pleading for a more perfect union. Moore still likes to get up close and personal with his perceived culprits, this time with police tape and bullhorn.

He’s the quintessential elephant in the playpen, the bull in the china shop, and I do believe the man actually relishes scaring people. He relishes the power that he loves to belittle in others.

For the record, I believe his “Fahrenheit 9/11” to be a shameless display of personal propaganda. And his presentation hasn’t changed much. In “Capitalism” he still loves to chide and goad his adversaries. This time, his target is Wall Street.

This time—and what I like about the movie—Michael Moore is right.

I shan’t hide behind the veil of “in my opinion” or “it is my belief” and all those safety nets for guys writing columns that other people may loathe. This time, my fellow small-fry, my potential fellow “dead peasants” (see the movie, you’ll understand)—this time I’m thrilled that Michael Moore’s out there making noise.

Our economy’s collapsing and those we’ve given the power to fix it appear too busy stocking their own lifeboats to care. Michael Moore? Liberal, conservative, left, right, whatever— at least he’s trying to get the message out. Want to see the same message in print? Read Matt Taibbi’s exceptional “Wall Street’s Naked Swindle” in Rolling Stone (issue 1089).

So what’s a film critic know about the economy? About the Federal Reserve or derivatives, about cronyism in Washington? Well, a movie critic has to pay bills; has to juggle credit cards when 38 percent interest is the unexpected, unannounced new rate; has to pay late fees when bills that hit the mailbox on Tuesday are due on Wednesday.

This critic (move over Ebert) is married to a one-time Smith Barney VP, a 16-year broker who left the business two years ago after realizing that our financial house of cards couldn’t sustain itself, that today’s capitalism is a ruse, that America’s form of debtriddled faux success was destined to fail. But wait , you say, the system’s working. Sure, so does every Ponzi scheme . . . up to a point.

Citigroup (in confidential documents snatched up by Moore) has dubbed this the age of “plutonomy”—the ludicrous wealth of the prestigious 1 percent fueled by the efforts of the other 99. Citigroup’s only fear is that the downtrodden 99 percent will catch on and revolt. Really, they said that. (Citigroup’s share of bailout funds, by the way? $45 billion.)

Will we revolt? My wife thinks this meltdown is only beginning. I suspect Michael Moore does too. Even if you hate Michael Moore, see this movie. Don’t shoot the messenger; listen to the message. This is serious stuff.

Can’t fathom the thought of spending 127 minutes with the man? Check out these documentaries: “The Corporation” (Big Picture Media Corp.); “Maxed Out: Hard Times, Easy Credit and the Era of Predatory Lenders” (Trueworks); and “Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” (Jigsaw Productions). Because Michael Moore isn’t the only cry in the wilderness. At the moment, he just seems to be the loudest.

“I refuse to live in a country like this . . . and I’m not leaving.”

—Michael Moore